A/N - Sorry that it's taken a month to update this. I know I said at the start I'd try and update every Friday, but real life got in the way. Sorry!

Thanks go to my wonderful beta Court81981 for all her help and support and for being a wonderful person generally.

By the way, if you liked that previous chapter, you'll love what my dear friend Streetlightlove1 has put together; S2SL stands for Smut 2 Save Lives, and is a series of stories written by some of the very best authors this fandom has to offer. Search S2SL on tumblr to find out how to donate, thereby donating money to charity, saving lives and getting yourselves some pretty awesome smut at the same time!

Oh, and I have a new story out that is very very different to anything else I've written, but feel free to go and check it out, as I'm pretty proud of it so far. The Colour of Heartbreak is an historical and magical AU, so if that's your bag, baby, hopefully you'll enjoy!

Thanks again for reading, please feel free to leave feedback :)

Embarrassed that Peeta was always the one to cook for them both, Katniss had insisted that Peeta come to hers for Valentine's. She planned on surprising him with a three course, home-cooked meal, which she knew would be a challenge, as usually the extent of her cooking involved nothing more than putting things in the oven on a high heat until they turned a slightly darker shade of brown.

They had eaten out in various vegan friendly places around London and Suffolk, and by and large the food had been surprisingly good; there were occasional times she had cravings for meat, but those were lessening over time, particularly since Peeta had shown her undercover footage of the inner workings of a slaughterhouse. The copious amounts of blood had made her feel incredibly sick, and the filthy conditions looked as far from hygienic as it was possible to be. That, coupled with Peeta's downright refusal to kiss her if he even suspected that she had eaten it, made steering clear of meat a far easier task than she had originally anticipated.

But there were still those occasional cravings. Despite her initial misgivings about seitan, stemming from when she'd first witnessed Peeta making it, she found that it was the best thing to ease those cravings, and by far her favourite meal she'd tried when dining out was a seitan stroganoff. And so for a main course she had decided to try and recreate it at home.

After searching online she found a clear recipe, and while it was far more complicated than anything she had tried before, the rational, scientific part of her mind reasoned that it was simply a case of following instructions, and that there was no reason she couldn't do it.

For a starter she had decided to go with some simple baked garlic mushrooms, and for dessert she'd bought some soy ice cream and was going to attempt to make a chocolate brownie to go with it.

"Don't you think you're stretching your abilities a little thinly?" asked Jo, when she learned what Katniss was planning.

"Ha-ha," she deadpanned. "You just wait. It can't be that difficult."

"We'll see, Brainless. All I'll say is that I don't envy Peeta one bit."

Katniss narrowed her eyes at Jo. If there was one thing she loved doing, it was proving her housemate wrong.

Everything was set. Jo had a date that night and had assured Katniss that she would be doing everything in her power to make sure she wasn't returning home until the next day, which was a pretty reasonable guarantee that she and Peeta would have the whole flat entirely to themselves all evening. Katniss had glanced at the stroganoff recipe first thing in the morning, and was very pleased to see that it would only take forty-five minutes to cook. Knowing that she wasn't as fast as most in the kitchen she allowed herself an hour to be safe, and had spent most of the day tidying the flat. They didn't have a proper table to sit at, so instead she moved the coffee table to the middle of the room and put a few large, squashy cushions on the floor around it. A few finishing touches to the room made everything perfect; a few candles and tealights dotted around the room added a romantic atmosphere, and a wooden tray burning a stick of Nag Champa completed the picture.

She was absolutely brimming with confidence. Before cleaning the flat, she decided to quickly make the brownies, and in a fit of inspiration, had infused them with some champagne. Peeta had advised her to go to the Co-op for it, as a means of guaranteeing it was vegan, and she had stocked up, knowing how a glass of champagne and a few strawberries could turn any evening into a romantic haven. Once the brownies had come from the oven she allowed them to cool a little before slicing one and tasting it. Perfection. Soft, gooey, rich and delicious. She shook her head at how impressed she'd always been by Peeta's culinary skills. It was nothing to brag about, after all. This was easy.

With a little over an hour until Peeta was due to arrive Katniss started work in the kitchen, setting her laptop up on the side for easy access to the recipe. As she re-read it panic began to set in. It listed forty-five minutes as the cooking time. Those forty five minutes failed to take in to account the hour that the seitan needed to be cooked separately beforehand, as well as the four hours minimum that the cashews needed to soak in water prior to beginning.

Taking deep breaths to stay calm she began to rationalise. The seitan itself was cooked first in boiling water. Well, the stroganoff had a sauce. It could cook in that. She couldn't think of any reason why the cashews needed to be soaked, so she'd just proceed without that step, and besides, like the seitan, they' be sitting in the sauce for around an hour, and that was mostly liquid… It would work. It had to work.

She quickly mixed together the ingredients for the seitan, retching a little at the slop she created and marvelling that anything so slimy could ever turn into something edible. If she hadn't witnessed the remarkable transformation at Peeta's hands she'd be hard-pressed to believe it.

With a quick look at her watch, a slight amount of panic set in, as time was steadily trickling away from her. Traffic permitting, punctuality was a trait she could readily associate with Peeta, and she had promised him dinner as soon as he walked through the door.

If she could at least get the starter ready and organised, the main course could continue to cook whilst they were eating. 'Stay calm,' she told herself. 'Logical. Rational. You can do this.'

It was the work of a few minutes to arrange the ten mushrooms on a baking tray, and fill them with a mix of dairy-free butter, garlic and parsley. With that done, she felt a little more able to relax.

As quickly as she was able, she assembled the ingredients for the stroganoff. The cashews took a lot of effort to grind down, and she wasn't able to get them as small as she had hoped, but with a little over thirty minutes until Peeta was due to arrive, she had a sauce bubbling away on the stovetop. Using a pair of scissors, she chopped strips of the uncooked seitan mixture into the pot.

Almost immediately she could tell that something was going wrong. The seitan didn't appear to be holding together; instead, small pieces were breaking off, some was even dissolving directly into the sauce. The bottom began to drop out of her stomach; she didn't have time at all to start again. Turning the heat up, hoping that this would cook the raw seitan quicker and stop it breaking apart, she began to pray for a miracle.

Fifteen minutes until Peeta was due to arrive and panic was consuming her. The stroganoff had turned an unappealing grey, and seemed to be slowly congealing into one large, gelatinous lump. Unsure of what to do with it, she ignored the problem, and turned the oven on to begin cooking the stuffed mushrooms.

To calm her nerves she poured herself a glass of the champagne she had opened earlier in the day. It was looking like Jo was right; this had been way too ambitious from the start. The alcohol numbed the feelings of panic briefly but allowed melancholy to rise to the surface. She'd been planning this for so long, and as a perfectionist, she despised her own failure.

Cursing the recipe for misleading her on her original, cursory read-through of it, she sat down to finish her champagne and wondered if it was too late to order a takeaway, transfer it to a saucepan, and pretend that she had cooked it.

A quick glance at her watch told her that would be impossible. She had no option but to serve up the monstrosity she had created. Just as she came to this conclusion, an acrid, burning smell began to sting her nostrils.

Running back to the kitchen, knowing what was awaiting her, did little to ease the panic at seeing thick smoke billowing out from the corners of her oven. She opened the door and was instantly blinded by even more smoke. Waving the clouds away, she was greeted by the sight of her ten garlic mushrooms, shrivelled to blackened crisps. She froze on the spot, completely at a loss as to what to do next.

When she heard the buzzer for the front door go she wanted to cry. All she'd wanted to do was create something perfect to show her gratitude to him and it had failed. Miserably. Leaning against her wall, she took several deep, steadying breaths and blinked back the tears. The buzzer rang again and she realised she hadn't prepped the living room yet. Cursing herself as the angry tears began to fall, she quickly lit the candles and the stick of incense. As she heard the buzzer for a third time she jogged to the entry phone, quickly wiping her face of any stray tears, before she answered the phone to him and buzzed him in. Shame at her failure burned inside her, and she left the door to her flat off the latch so Peeta could let himself in. She didn't feel worthy of even greeting him at the door and instead retreated back into the kitchen, staring down at the bubbling and congealing grey mess on her stove top.

"Katniss?" she heard Peeta's voice call through to her from her hallway and wiped her eyes on the back of her hands again, hoping that he wouldn't notice that she had been upset.

"Here," she called back, cursing herself as her voice cracked slightly.

Peeta picked up on the sound of her distress immediately, "What's wrong?" he called back, and Katniss could hear his heavy footsteps heading quickly towards her. She stepped out of the kitchen, noted the look of worry on his face, and stepped into his waiting arms. "What happened?" he asked urgently.

His scent enveloped her and she buried her face in his chest. When one of his hands cradled the back of her head, the other gently stroking her back she began to cry. "I messed up dinner," she sobbed.

As she clutched on to him even tighter she could feel him relax under her grip. "Is that all?" he said. "I thought you'd hurt yourself."

"It's ruined."

"I bet it isn't."

"Peeta, it's a disaster."

"I bet you anything it's not," he countered.

"You sure you want to go down that route? Because it's not a bet you're going to win."

"You're on. If I'm right, and I am, you have to do anything I ask of you."

She snorted through her tears. "And I get the same if I win? Peeta, you're just giving yourself up to me in any way I want."

"Still sounds like a win to me," he said, as he held her even tighter. "Anyway, I've been looking forward to this all day. Here." He let go of her for a moment and opened his bag, withdrawing two bottles of champagne and handing them to her. "I'm sure it's fine, but worst case scenario, we'll just get too drunk to taste anything."

At his words she felt a little ray of happiness bubble up inside her and she couldn't help but laugh a little. Drying her eyes on the back of her hands, she took the bottles from him and said, "We better get started then. I've got a couple of cold ones in the fridge. You're going to need a drink before you eat any of this."

"Sure thing," he smiled, kissing the top of her head. "But don't keep me waiting too long. I'm starving."

She led him through to the living room and told him to make himself comfortable while she fetched the opened bottle of champagne. Once she returned to him, the bottle and two champagne flutes in hand, she couldn't help but feel a little more relaxed. He was sat cross-legged on the floor on one of the large cushions, and as soon as she put the bottle and glasses down he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down on to his lap.

"Missed you," he said simply, before he tilted her chin towards him. His tongue fluttered along her lower lip and she sighed as she opened her mouth to him. Kissing him was something she would happily do forever, if she could. His lips were always so soft yet insistent and his tongue…. She moaned into him as she thought about the magic he could work with his tongue, and yet just as soon as he started to kiss her he pulled away, eliciting a groan of disappointment from her. Sparkling blue eyes met her stormy greys and Katniss could see the pinpricks of light from the candles dotted around the room reflected in them. "How's about that drink, then?" he smiled, picking up the two flutes and pouring them both a glass while she remained seated in his lap. Handing one to her, he gently clinked his own glass against hers and took a sip. "How much do I need to drink before you'll serve up?" he smirked.

"For your own safety, at least a whole glass," she replied, the sinking feeling returning as she remembered that she was going to be serving him with what could well be the most inedible food he'd ever eaten. "Look, do you want a takeaway instead?" she asked desperately.

"No!" he protested. "I want what you've made. And besides," he said, downing the entire flute of champagne, "I've had a whole glass now. So any time you want to serve dinner, I'll be happy."

She sighed deeply as she climbed out of his lap. "It's your funeral," she said half under her breath as she walked into the kitchen. Refusing to even glance at the slop that she was going to try and pass off as a main meal, she opened the oven door and was hit by a wave of smoky heat which caused her to cough and splutter.

"Do you need help serving?" he called through to her.

"No," she replied stubbornly.

"You sure?" he asked, and she was certain she could detect a hint of laughter behind his words. "Maybe I should call the fire brigade instead?"

"Right," she said, storming back into the living room. "I know this is a fuck-up. You know it's a fuck-up. But you're the one insisting we eat this shit, so the least you can do is shut up with those kind of comments, ok?"

"Ok," he said, his hands held up in a placatory gesture, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. Really. It smells good."

She eyed him suspiciously as he still seemed to be biting his lip to supress his laughter before turning on her heel and heading back into the smoke-filled kitchenette. The ten mushrooms were burned to the point of being almost black, and had shrunk to the size of marbles. Shaking her head, she scraped them on to two separate plates. They looked pathetically small and out of place, and out of desperation to at least try and make it look edible, she added a few salad leaves to the side of each plate. Swearing under her breath and trying to swallow the nervousness she felt, she picked up the two plates and returned to the living room.

"I'm sorry," she said as she placed the plate in front of him.

"What for? This is fine," he said, popping one of the mushrooms into his mouth.

"It's burned to a cinder, Peeta," she replied, pushing her own around her plate, unwilling to even try one.

"Chargrilled," he corrected her, kindly. "They're really not that bad," he said, eating another. "Here." He picked one up and held it out towards her, his eyes twinkling as he gently placed it in her mouth. Begrudgingly she had to agree with him. They weren't too bad. If she'd been paying attention and not let them burn they would have been something she'd have been quite proud of.

Predictably enough, Peeta polished off his plate in half the time it took for Katniss to finish hers. The nerves began to bubble up in her again. The starter, while it hadn't been perfect, wasn't what she had been most upset about. "Can we just end the meal here?" she asked him after finishing the last mushroom on her plate.

"No way. I'm still hungry."

"You'll still be hungry when you don't eat what's next," she said miserably, as she went back out in to the kitchen. Lifting the lid on the stroganoff she had to swallow the wave of nausea that rapidly rose within her. Ignoring that particular disaster for now, she popped a pouch of pre-cooked rice in to the microwave and set the time for 3 minutes.

As soon as the microwave pinged, she took a deep breath and split the rice between two plates, topping it with a spoonful of the grey, gelatinous slop. "You might want another drink before you attempt this," she called through to Peeta.

"Just hurry up and bring it through," he responded. Even in the low candle light she was convinced that the heat from her cheeks was noticeable as she set the plate in front of him. "This looks…."

"Like shit," she finished for him. Looking at her own plate she made an instant decision not to eat any of it. "I won't blame you if you don't touch this," she said. "I know I won't."

"Katniss, I'm sure it'll be fine," he smiled, although Katniss was certain that he was trying hard to supress the look of repulsion. He picked up his fork and prodded the lumpy mass on his plate a few times before picking up a forkful and shovelling it in his mouth. The grin slowly faded from his face, and the colour in his cheeks was replaced with a sickly grey pallor a similar shade to the food on his plate. She watched him swallow with difficulty and take several deep breaths before he spoke. "So, ummm… what is this?"

"Seitan stroganoff."

"Oh."

"Don't eat it, Peeta. It's shit."

"No, it's…" He prodded a particularly gelatinous lump and clearly decided it was best avoided. "The rice has come out well," he said, changing the subject slightly.

"It's microwaved. I didn't cook it."

Unable to respond positively, he pushed some rice and a little of the sauce on to his fork, and appeared to be bracing himself before attempting it. "It's umm… it's an interesting texture you've achieved here," he said thickly, quickly washing away the remnants of his last mouthful with a swig of champagne. "How did you cook the seitan?"

"In the sauce."

A slight smirk played across his lips. "And, um, did you knead it all, before you cooked it?"

Her silence was the only answer he required.

"I thought as much. And the cashews? I'm guessing you didn't soak them before they went through a blender."

"How'd you know—?"

"What you've got here, is basically very wet uncooked bread dough, where the gluten hasn't been properly activated, and with a few nutty lumps interspersed through it. Firstly you didn't knead it, so the mixture hasn't had time to form proper proteins. Then you didn't pre-cook, so by placing it in the sauce, without it being at a high enough temperature, you've managed to saturate the gluten. The bottom of the pan must have gotten hot enough to cook at least some of it, hence you've got these—" he paused for a moment, and pulled something solid and curdled-looking out of the grey mess on his plate, "—these glorious little nuggets—"

"Alright, smartarse," she interrupted.

"—And by not soaking the cashews before you put them through a processor, what you got was essentially grit, instead of a smooth paste." He picked up his fork once more as if he were going to brave another mouthful. "At least it's not poisonous though. So it's got that going for it."

"So it's just vile, but not life-threatening. Let's just forget it and move on to pudding, ok? I made us a chocolate brownie, and before you start questioning how that went wrong you can shut your mouth because it didn't."

"No," he said, although there was a definite lack of conviction in his voice. "I'd like to finish this."

"Stop it," she said, snatching the fork from his hand. "Stop trying to make me feel better, because it isn't working."

He held her gaze for a moment before his shoulders sagged in relief. "Sorry, Katniss," he laughed. "But you were right. It really is vile. I don't understand how you could have gotten it so wrong."

"Shut up," she seethed.

Still laughing he poured them both another glass of champagne, and said, "At least we can both just get drunk and forget it." Just as he lifted the glass to his lips he paused, and Katniss noticed every ounce of colour drain from his face as he picked up the bottle and examined it closer.

"What's wrong?" she asked him.

"It's got gelatine in," he said in a low, shaking voice.

"Huh?"

"Cow skeletons, Katniss, you just fed me boiled cow skeletons." Suddenly he was on his feet, storming towards the kitchen. Katniss could hear him draining the glass down the sink, immediately feeling the tears well up. On his return he sat down heavily, a look of horror on his face, as he stared at the offending bottle. "I don't fucking believe this," he muttered under his breath.

Anger swelled inside her, immediately replacing the sadness she had felt moments before. "Don't blame me," she shouted. "You told me to get it from the Co-op. I did what you told me to do!"

"You still have to read the fucking labels, Katniss! Jesus fucking Christ, they sell meat in the Co-op, that doesn't automatically make it vegan!"

"I didn't know! You didn't say that!"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. Every now and then he seemed to be fighting to supress a gag reflex. "It was an accident," he said after a while, his tone low and flat. "I know you didn't mean it." Katniss watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed before speaking again. "I'm sorry I shouted at you. How about dessert?"

A dawning realisation struck her. The brownie she'd made, the only thing that had worked, had been rendered inedible to him. "I thought I'd be clever," she said quietly. "It's been flavoured with some of that champagne."

"Oh."

Silence fell between the two of them before the tears that had been threatening to spill came back with a vengeance. She grabbed hold of the plates with the abandoned and ruined stroganoff, stacking one on top of the other, and took hold of the half empty champagne bottle in her other hand, and marched away from Peeta into the kitchen so that he didn't have to see her cry.

"Katniss?"

Ignoring him, she emptied the remains of the champagne down the sink, before scraping the food into the bin and dropping the plates on the work surface. She sniffed loudly, and impatiently wiped her eyes on the back of her hand.

"Katniss?" She felt the warm weight of his hand on her shoulder for just a moment before he gently turned her around and pulled her into his waiting arms. He squeezed her briefly before walking her through to the living room. "Come here," he said, as he sat down on the sofa, pulling her down to sit beside him. He cupped her face in her hands before gently brushing the tears away from her cheeks.

"I just wanted it to be perfect," she quietly sobbed. "I ruined everything."

"That's completely untrue. So you can't cook. Big deal. I'll stay at home and be the domestic housewife, while you can be the intrepid hunter-gatherer, braving the supermarket in search of such rare beasts as palm oil-free peanut butter, Romanesco broccoli— "

"And boneless champagne?" she interjected with a dark laugh.

"Yeah. I think you need to work on your trapping skills for that one, but with a little practice you'll be an expert in no time."

Almost beyond her own will, a small chuckle was wrenched from her; half laughing, half sobbing, she threw her arms around his neck and said, "I'm so useless."

"Not true. You can't be great at everything. You have strengths in other fields."

"Like what?" she sniffed, sitting up to look at him through her veil of tears.

"You're funny," he said, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, and then playing with the end of her braid. "You always make me laugh. And you're kind-hearted. I've seen how you get upset over news reports on TV. And generous. And you're a talented writer. An incredible singer. You're my hard-core rebel soldier at computer games—"

"That's hardly a usable skill, Peeta."

"I don't care. It's fun, and I love that you're better than me at them. You're the most exuberant, fun-loving person I've met, you're a hard worker, you're open, you're honest, you're loving—"

"Ok, stop."

"Why? You're beautiful. Inside and out—"

"Peeta, please," she interrupted. "Just, stop. I wanted so much for this to be perfect. I wanted to cook you the perfect dinner and…." she trailed off sadly.

"Stop worrying. I'm not all that hungry anyway."

A loud growling sound came from his stomach, causing Peeta to roll his eyes and Katniss to laugh a little sadly. "You'd be a much more convincing liar if your body didn't betray you all the time."

"Sorry," he replied, a half smile twitching the corners of his mouth upwards. "Have you got anything we can cook quickly?"

"Oven chips?" she suggested half-heartedly. "Beans on toast?"

"I'd kill for a chip butty right now."

Flashing him a quick smile, she stood up to head back out into her kitchenette, but not before Peeta grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back into his lap, bringing her lips to his. "Love you," he told her.

"You too." She made a second attempt to stand and head out to the kitchen, laughing as Peeta pulled her back into his lap once more.

"Just one more thing," he said, holding tight to her so she couldn't move. "I'm just wondering if this counts as a disaster or not. I'd just like to know who belongs to who tonight."

"I think it's pretty safe to say you belong to me, Peeta. How you can describe this as anything other than a disaster is beyond me."

"But you redeemed it with the promise of a chip butty. It's not a total disaster."

"That was never part of the deal. Don't try and squirm your way out of a losing bet. Besides, there's still a chance that I could burn the chips."

"True," he sighed. "Ok, I concede defeat. I'm all yours. Once I've eaten, you can do with me what you want."

She shook her head. "If you want, you can start straight away. Go and make food for us."

A smile crept across his lips, echoing the laughter in his eyes. "As you wish," he said, pushing her from his lap. She made herself comfortable on the sofa as she listened to the sound of Peeta moving around in her kitchen. After a couple of minutes he returned, carrying two clean glasses and one of the bottles of champagne he brought with him. "I don't know how cold this will be, but we can give it a go." The champagne cork made a gloriously satisfying pop, before Peeta poured two glasses, handing one to Katniss. "We have eighteen minutes until the chips are cooked," he said. "Care to think of anything to fill that time?" When Katniss didn't answer immediately, he continued, "Well, I know that you're supposed to be in charge, but am I allowed to make a suggestion?"

"Go ahead," she sighed, taking a small sip from her glass before placing it on the coffee table beside Peeta's.

"I've been thinking of you all day. I mean, I know that's nothing new, but I've been thinking about you a lot today. And how much I want to kiss you."

As he knelt down in front of her, she sat up a little straighter and ducked her head in towards him. "I think I can allow that," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers wound into the curls of hair at the nape of his neck and held him steady as their lips met. As she played with those curls with one hand, she rested the other against his chest and could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, speeding up slightly under her unrelenting kisses.

Slightly breathless, he pulled away from her, resting his forehead against hers. "That was wonderful," he said, slowly running his hands down over her back, and despite his warmth, Katniss shivered in anticipation, "but when I said I wanted to kiss you, I had something else in mind."

"Peeta," she breathed, "you don't have to…"

"No, I lost the bet, fair and square. I have to do whatever you want."

She laughed at his terrible logic. "But I haven't asked you to do anything."

"So you don't want me to?"

"I never said that."

"So you do want me to?"

"Well, yes, all the time, but—"

"Well, shut up then."

She found that she couldn't look at him, especially as a warm glow was creping over her cheeks. She was the one who had messed up everything, and Peeta was trying to make it up to her? Almost as if he could read her thoughts, he spoke once again. "Look, you're upset. And when I'm upset you do everything you can to cheer me up, right?"

"I guess so."

"Well then. Let's just…" he shuddered for a moment, probably remembering the gelatine in the wine. "Let's just forget it. Start the evening from now, ok?"

"Ok," she smiled.

"And you're going to be as happy as possible. So, you're going to drink this—" he handed her back the flute of champagne before reaching to the side for his bag. Rummaging around for a moment, he withdrew a box wrapped in green tissue paper and handed it to her, saying, " —and eat these, and I'm going to make you happy."

"What's this?" she asked, tearing the paper from the box.

"Chocolates. I made them for you."

"You want me to sit here, drinking champagne, eating chocolates while you go down on me?"

He shrugged in an overly-dramatic, resigned manner. "Katniss, if that's what you tell me to do, I don't really see that I have much of a choice. I'm bound by the terms of our bet. You better hurry up and make your mind up though. The clock's ticking, and I'm not letting our Cordon Bleu dinner burn."

He was kneeling in front of her expectantly, and Katniss smiled and shook her head. Despite all his bluster about having to do whatever she said, it was pretty clear that this was something he'd been fantasizing about. And who was she to deny him? "Sure," she said, not quite believing how he had managed to twist everything around. "You know, I think this might be just about the most decadent thing that's ever happened to me," she chuckled as she placed one of the chocolates in her mouth. After biting through the crisp dark chocolate shell, she was met by a soft, rich and creamy ganache, laced with oranges and alcohol. "Oh, Peeta…" she groaned, "these are heavenly."

"Good," he said, as he began to undo the zip on her jeans, smiling at her before pulling them down, along with her underwear, and discarding them on the floor beside him. As he gently pushed her thighs apart, he encouraged her to scoot to the edge of the sofa. Katniss' heart began to race in anticipation, and she swallowed a large mouthful of champagne just as he dipped his head to her centre.

At first she felt his warm breath fanning out across her. This alone caused her insides to squirm pleasurably, and as soon as he pressed a kiss to her she made a keening sound deep in her throat, the intense and sensual shock almost causing her to upend her champagne all over the sofa.

"Careful," he smirked, before parting her folds with his tongue.

Being more prepared this time, she managed to keep hold of her glass as she gripped his hair with her free hand. It was the most wantonly hedonistic experience of her life, and as he pushed his tongue further into her centre, she downed the last of her champagne and abandoned the glass beside her, so that she could fall back against the cushions.

The change in her position meant that Peeta could work his magic far easier, and the satisfied growl he made sent deep, rumbling vibrations straight to her core. Almost of their own volition, her hips began to roll in time with the attention from his tongue. He flattened his palm over her stomach to hold her still and steady, gently ghosting his tongue over her clit.

As his tongue worked over her, alternating between circling her clit, pressing into her entrance, and back again, she felt an intense heat began to pool deep inside her. Her back began to arch off the sofa, and with her left hand she gripped ever tighter to the back of Peeta's head, while the fingers of her right hand entwined with his.

His movements increased in urgency, and in response her breath quickened. She bit down hard on her bottom lip, and clenched Peeta's hand in her own. She could feel the blood pounding through her veins, and as Peeta began to draw small circles with his thumb over the soft skin of her inner thigh, she felt every muscle in her body contract.

Her body bucked upwards as tendrils of heat coiled outwards from her centre. "Peeta….." she whispered throatily, holding him in place as she rode through her orgasm, only relinquishing her grip when her flesh became too sensitive to allow him to stay.

He sat up in front of her, watching her with heavily lidded eyes. Licking his lips, he picked up her discarded flute, and refilled it with champagne before handing it back to her.

"Thank you," she said breathlessly.

"You're welcome," he answered, a proud smile on his lips. He reached for the chocolate box and picked one out, and placed it between his teeth. As Katniss tried to catch her breath, he leant over her, passing the chocolate to her. She could taste the mix of chocolate, alcohol and her own sex on his tongue, and captured his little moan of delight, before he pulled away from her. "Feel better?" he asked softly.

She nodded, stroking her fingers down the side of his cheek. "Thank you," she repeated.

A flash of a broad smile, and he was on his feet and heading towards her kitchenette. She lay back on her couch for a moment, listening to Peeta moving in her kitchenette, before she was able to summon the strength to move. Just as she finished redressing, Peeta returned, a plate in either hand, a large chip butty dripping with ketchup on each.

"Here," he said, handing one of the sandwiches to her. He took a seat next to and immediately began to tuck in to the butty with gusto.

"I'm sorry again," she said again, as she picked up her sandwich.

"For what?" he said thickly through a mouthful of chips.

"This is hardly the most romantic dinner."

"You're fucking kidding me?" he said, smiling and shaking his head. "This is the most romantic Valentine's I've had!"

"You're sure?" she asked, as she began to tuck in to her own food.

"Couldn't be better," he grinned, and his smile was so warm and genuine that Katniss finally felt that perhaps she hadn't ruined his evening after all.

"Thank you for salvaging tonight. Maybe after we've eaten I could repay the favour?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment before replying. "Don't ask me, Katniss. I have to do whatever you say, don't forget."

A sly smile spread across her face, and she answered, "Fine. Then after we've eaten, I order you to lie back, and take what's coming."

His own grin widened, and his eyes sparkled mischievously. "Now you're talking."